The Conqueror
by Lorrean
Summary: Dipper, deserted by his family and friends, must face an enemy alone. Will our hero see another summer, or will his adversary be victorious? Read and find out.


**A/N: Decided to make a bold move and create the usual, dramatic valiant story about a protagonist, with a twist.**

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Gravity Falls. **

With fifty already dead or dying, Dipper knew he would win. Just one more remained to challenge him. He glared at his opponent, ignoring the carcasses littering the ground around him. Some still writhed in agony, yet he paid them no mind, for Dipper knew no compassion; not with an enemy so ruthless, so determined, and with how great a number had challenged him. It was his intention to defeat them; right down to the very last one. He would show them no mercy whatsoever.

Sadly, just before the slaughter, his sister and his friends had deserted him.

_Cowards!_ He had declared before setting to work.

Surprisingly, even his own great uncle had left him to his fate, hiding away with the others, and though it surprised Dipper, he would not label him a coward as he had his twin sibling. Even then, he didn't really blame any of them, for he was the only one who could win, the only one of five in his gang trained to defeat their foe. Yes, he was the _Conqueror _and he would make certain that his friends and his great uncle could rest easy once more.

Now, with only one enemy left to fight, Dipper stood poised. He had trained for this moment, every fiber of his being ready to prove his worth as a man. His weapon firm within his grip, he watched his soon-to-be doomed prey as it languished nearby, obviously waiting for the right moment to strike.

The enemy did not heed its fallen comrades' fate and seek escape. Nay, it seemed to mock their very death, its annoying taunts filling the room with an irritating cry, hoping to drive its opponent to the brink of insanity!

Then, it made its move, but instead of coming straight for Dipper, it swung around the room to find an opening.

Dipper snapped his weapon at the ready. Emboldened by his enemy's war cry, he crouched and waited, watching his foe's trajectory with steely resolve. It behaved as if unaware of the threat before it, but Dipper knew better. His enemy was crafty, just waiting for the perfect opportunity.

Suddenly, just as Dipper expected, when he feigned an opening it suddenly rushed him, determined and resolute.

Coming in low, it angled to Dipper's right, then to the left, then right again, only to unexpectedly swing up and then down. It did a spiral and a flip in quick succession, all while advancing on the boy.

Dipper wanted to laugh at its aggressive antics, but he held himself in check. It was toying with him, he knew this, but Dipper would not boast, not yet, not until the last of his enemy succumbed from the weight of his judgment. Dipper would win; he had to. After all, his family was at stake, because in the next room and huddling in fear, were those he had sworn to protect. He. Had. To. Win. There was no other option. It would not matter what it cost him, either.

As if sensing Dipper's momentary lapse in concentration, his enemy took advantage of it and dove to strike.

What it didn't know was that Dipper was a master private eye, with reflexes as sharp and a mind as keen and sharp.

In an instant, Dipper whipped around, cutting through the air with his weapon. He was a paradigm of fluidic grace.

Just as his enemy believed itself victorious, in the final second, Dipper struck home.

He smashed his enemy with the flat of his weapon and his whoop of victory nearly raised the rafters. His opponent shot over the sofa and smacked into the living room window of Stan's shack. It bounced to the floor and writhed haphazardly along the wooden surface. It stopped, contorted again, and then lay there, still and unmoving. It had joined its comrades in death.

Fifty-one of their dreaded enemy lay strewn along the floor, all defeated by one single warrior: the great, the mighty...Dipper Pines.

He stood over them with legs spread apart in a superhero stance, one hand on hip, his weapon at attention in the other, a smug proud expression on his face.

Knowing they were safe once again, his friends emerged cautiously from the kitchen. Through the door and into the living room they filed, one by one, each admiring the handiwork of their hero.

"Did you get them all, Dipper?" Mabel asked, looking around in concern.

"Dude, that was awesome work!" Wendy gushed as she observed the carnage lying under the front window.

Soos thoughtfully said, "Every year we get these things. There must be a way for them to get in. Still, even with hambone's fear of flies, you could have just opened the front door. I'm sure they would have gone, dood. Flies prefer being outdoors."

Mabel only shook her head, a look of horror on her face, "Nuh uh, Soos, they'd only find another way inside again. They had to die!" She went over to Dipper and, with a relieved smile, exclaimed, "Thanks bro-bro, I owe you one!"

Dipper laid a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder, "No problem, Mabel." He then walked over to the side of the fireplace and hooked the flyswatter back on the wall again.

From the kitchen, another voice grunted, "Dipper, is it safe to come out?"

"Yes, Grunkle Stan, it's safe, now; they're all dead," Dipper rolled his eyes.

"Good," the old man said in relief, and he soon eased through the doorway, "It's really annoying when flies get cozy above my head."

**A/N: Flies are annoying. This is why I love fanfiction. You get to put your favorite character in a story to destroy the things you hate the most.**

**If you read, leave a review!**


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